


movement through space

by sinchronicity



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bisexual Beverly Marsh, Developing Relationship, F/F, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian Audra Phillips, Minor Bill Denbrough/Audra Phillips, Minor Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, The Denbroughs have a marriage of convenience
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26512717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinchronicity/pseuds/sinchronicity
Summary: When seamstress Beverly Marsh is hired on as actress Audra Denbrough's personal tailor, she's not sure what she expects. But whatever it was, it wasn't a fascinating woman with an unconventional marriage, a love of excitement, and a habit of flirting incessantly. Beverly, drawn towards Audra for reasons she can't quite explain, is happy to let herself get swept off her feet and into the whirlwind of the Denbroughs' lives.
Relationships: Beverly Marsh/Audra Phillips
Kudos: 7





	movement through space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi IT wlws and supporters, it's me again, your favorite clown, back at it again! Honestly I wasn't even that interested in this pairing but then I got this idea and well, now it's all I can think about lmao. 
> 
> A couple of notes before we begin. Firstly, if you're wondering what canon this is supposed to be or when exactly it's set...uh, don't worry about it, lol. It's nebulous, but mostly book canon with some 1990 inspiration! Also: this chapter is pretty tame for an E rating, but it'll get a bit, well, steamier in following chapters, ;). And lastly but most importantly, there will also be some fairly heavy subject matter touched on in this story. I will add more specific content warnings when applicable (it'll probably mostly be in chapter 2) but, overall: mentions (usually very vague) of past abuse, and then more explicit discussion of and reference to addictions to various substances. 

Beverly Marsh was not dissatisfied with her life. She had no reason to be; she had a job she liked well enough; she had a group of women to get drinks with every couple of weeks; she lived on her own and her father had not contacted her in seven years. She was single, but she was starting to think that maybe that was for the best. It was not so unusual to take a break from dating in your early thirties, or at least that’s what the other girls at _Pamela by Hand_ told her in reassuring tones.

She hefted her bag higher up on her shoulder and quickened her pace. She was tired; there hadn’t been enough time for coffee. But it wouldn’t do to be late.

“Hey, Bev.”

She glanced up, and gave her coworker Nicole a smile-and-nod combo, feeling unready for speech. Nicole’s blonde hair fluttered around her chin and shoulders in feathered waves, and the effect of her cigarette smoke drifting up throw it made her look strikingly pretty, like an angel.

 _What an odd thing to think,_ Beverly thought to herself, and then she stepped inside, into the reassuring chaos of work.

“Marsh,” came from behind her. Beverly looked up from her machine; it was Ms. Bridges – the Pamela in _Pamela by Hand_ – herself.

“Yes?”

Pamela straightened to her full height (impressive, with her ever-present heels) and touched lightly at the side of her careful up-do. She frowned a little, and sighed.

“Walk with me, Marsh,” she said. “I’ve got a potential project for you, but it’s a little unorthodox.”

They walked. In her professional flats, Beverly was shorter than Pamela, but she didn't feel small or intimidated. She rarely felt intimidated at work, which was one of the reasons why she liked it.

“Some clients, you know, they’re just – particular. It’s not necessarily _bad_ – I mean, preferences are only natural, and it’s what we’re here for – but there should be limits, too, you know? Well, maybe _I_ don’t know what I’m talking about. That’s what Rogan – one of our investors, I think you’ve met him? – thinks, but then, I _do_ know that he _doesn’t_ know what he’s talking about, so –

Pamela stopped walking and took a sharp inhale. “I’m getting ahead of myself.”

She gestured to the entrance of her office, and Beverly followed her inside. She was starting to feel slightly on edge; she had indeed met Tom Rogan, and hadn’t liked him, although she was pretty sure he had liked her. He was an attractive man, but she had sworn off those for the time being.

“Audra Denbrough,” Pamela said, once inside. She was leaned up against her desk, and produced a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her pantsuit. “That’s the client. I’m going to assume you know who she is?”

Beverly had seen _Black Rapids_ like everyone else had. Specifically, she recalled suddenly her friend Leslie, who she’d watched it with. _God, she’s hot,_ Leslie had said, watching Denbrough – covered in faux-film blood and wearing a white tank that strained around her breasts – reach out a dirty, sweaty, hand, trying to save the other lead of the film. She had failed, and as the character – Rylie, or Kylie, or something like that – she’d looked so fucking _heartbroken_. It had very nearly made Beverly cry, and she was not the sort of person that cried at films.

“Yeah, I know who she is,” Beverly said. “What’s so unorthodox?”

Pamela shrugged a little. While Beverly had been distracted by her own thoughts, she’d smoked half-down her cigarette.

“I suppose it isn’t, really. Just old fashioned. And, well, so are we, so it fits. Essentially what Mrs. Denbrough wants is a personal tailor. She wants us to come to her. So that she doesn’t have to leave her mansion, presumably.”

“Oh,” Beverly said. She still felt a little off-balance. “And you want me…to do that?”

Pamela shrugged again. There was a carefully practiced nonchalance about her that Beverly had always envied.

“I need someone to do it. And I think you’d be a good fit. Some of the girls might be…overbearing. But you’ll make a good impression. I’m sure of it.”

Beverly’s mind swirled at that. She didn’t like to think that she – well. She was uncomfortable that her reputation was that of a pushover, of someone who wouldn’t put up a fuss but who _would_ put on a customer-service smile and get to work. Mostly she was uncomfortable because the reputation was correct.

Which meant, of course, that she was going to say yes.

"Of course," she said. Her voice didn't quaver – it hadn't in years. She was woman enough to hide her fear, for better or for worse. "You really think I'm the best for the job?"

Pamela turned her face away from the open window; the shadows shifting and changing on her lovely face.

"I do," she said. "I have the utmost confidence in your abilities and charms, Ms. Marsh. Cigarette?"

Beverly took a slow breath in. She shook her head. "No, thank you," she said. She wanted very much to say yes, but she didn't indulge herself her little pleasures while at work.

She ended up staying late that night, to help Stacy finishing up some patterns. The sun had begun her lazy late-Spring descent when she walked home, her hand itching over the cheap lighter stowed carefully in one pocket. She approached the familiar red-brick building of her apartment complex with an equally familiar relief, and let herself pull the lighter; pluck out a cigarette; light up and take a drag, deep and long. Beverly Marsh closed her eyes, and leaned up against the wall, and dreamt of a future where she did exactly what she wanted, when she wanted it, and nothing less.

One week later, Beverly shifted from foot to foot on an unfamiliar doorstep. The cab that Ms. Bridges had called her had already pulled out of the Denbroughs’ long driveway, and now she was at the mercy of strangers. She’d already rung the doorbell _and_ knocked.

The door swung open in front of her. The person in front of her was clearly not Audra Denbrough, actress of the silver screen.

“You must be Beverly Marsh,” he said. “Uh – William Denbrough. My wife is otherwise occupied at the moment, but if you come in w-with me, I’ll let her know you’re here.” He smiled, slightly. “I think she’s looking forward to this, so if she’s a little intense, don’t let her scare you off.”

Beverly nodded, excitement mixing with a familiar shyness in her stomach. “Of course. It’s good to meet you, Mr. Denbrough.”

He smiled at her again, and she followed after him. She knew what Mrs. Denbrough looked like – everybody did – but she had only the vaguest idea of her husband. He was tall – very tall, he had inches on Beverly even though she was in subtle heels – with a sort of grounded, earthy look. He did not resemble a Hollywood man, and he spoke slowly, methodically. Beverly watched the back of his head – he had short-cropped reddish hair and a bad hairline. She thought about Audra; about the luxurious waves of her hair, and her wide eyes, and her pretty, sharp face. 

Mr. Denbrough had her wait in the hallway. She didn’t mean to listen, but he wasn’t particularly quiet – “Auds?” she heard, and then a muffled conversation she couldn’t fully interpret. A door opened; there was a brief pattern of footsteps, and then she was looking at a woman she had until that point only seen in dark theatres on mildly uncomfortable dates.

“Oh, hello!” Audra Denbrough said, sounding delighted to simply witness her. She was dressed casually in loose pants and a tank top, her hair tied up in a messy ponytail. It was dyed raven-black, presumably for a role, and it made the lines of her face look even more dramatic. Beverly felt shy all over again.

“Come in!” Mrs. Denbrough said, gesturing widely with her hands. “You know, I wasn’t sure your boss would go for my request, but I suppose a request from Audra Denbrough isn’t really a request at all! How flattering.” She smiled; it was a rather cocky expression.

“Well, I’ll leave y-you to it,” her husband said, sounding mildly amused. After Audra’s fast-paced English-accented speech, the contrast between them was even more obvious. Beverly wondered if that benefited them; if they fit together by filling what the other lacked.

“Yes, go do whatever it is you do when I’m occupied,” Audra said. She smiled, and grabbed Beverly’s arm to steer her through the door. “Inside, darling.”

The door slipped closed behind them and they were alone. The room was gorgeous and over-large – as was presumably the custom of the newly wealthy – huge windows spanned the outside wall with light, lacy curtains doing little to the block the influx of light. It was open and clean, with a red rug in the middle of the room being the main centerpiece. There was a little rounded desk beside it, upon which there was a glass of red white, despite it being one in the afternoon. Audra saw Beverly notice it and laughed softly.

“Would you like some?”

“Oh –” and now Beverly felt awkward for noticing. It wasn’t like it was a work-day for Audra. “No, thank you.”

“I suppose you are effectively on the clock,” Audra said, peering at Beverly apparently closely enough to read her mind.

“Yes,” Beverly said, grasping at the out that Audra had given her. “Can I – maybe I can start by taking your measurements, so we can have them on file?”

“Of course,” Audra said, and her smile went sort of gentle. “I can behave.”

And she could, too. She let Beverly measure her body with a calm professionalism, and though she did stop occasionally for a sip of wine, she didn’t refill the glass once it was empty. They were all the way to looking through her extensive personal closet for inspiration when Audra, looking slightly bored, restarted the stream of speech between them.

“Have you read any of my husband’s books?” she said.

“No,” Beverly admitted, “I’m not really much of a reader, I guess.” She was distracted by some sort of absurd green creation hiding in Audra’s closet. She couldn’t imagine the other woman actually wearing it.

“Ah,” Audra said. “Well. They’re alright. Bill’s alright. In general.”

“You don’t get on well with him?” She was a little surprised to hear that…she’d been thinking about them, while Audra stood still and pretty with arms outstretched; imagining the two Denbroughs as equal and opposite partners, distanced but compelled towards each other by choice or circumstance or whatever reasons there were that caused people to get married.

“Oh, we ‘get on’ fine, darling. But,” – and here Audra had leaned down, quite close to Beverly’s face – “I think he’s secretly gay, so I don’t know how long we’ll last.”

Beverly jerked away from the green gown. She had absolutely no idea what to make of that. “I – sorry?”

Audra laughed. Beverly looked up at her sharp, pretty face; a long dark strand of her ponytail had escaped and was cascading down the side of her face now. Her eyes were squeezed shut in amusement.

“That got your attention! How sweet you are. It’s very normal, you know, in Hollywood, to marry for reasons other than love.”

“I’m sure it is,” Beverly said. She felt very tense.

Audra raised one sculpted eyebrow. “Also very normal – in Hollywood, of course – to be homosexual.” She laughed again, and then shook her head a little, as if scolding herself for her own words. “Well, I shouldn’t – I mean, I don’t know. Bill just has a…special friend. I suppose I want him to find someone, for his own good.”

Beverly had never in her life wondered if one of her boyfriends was secretly gay, but perhaps she and Audra courted very different sorts of men. _For his own good_ , though, that was – her stressed mind made an attempt at deciphering it.

“You _want_ him to –?”

“Mm,” Audra said, and suddenly she spun away from Beverly and from the conversation, as if she’d become suddenly aware that she had revealed too much.

“I want my husband to be happy,” Audra said, from across the new distance between them. “That’s only natural, isn’t it?”

Afternoon sun filtered through the lace and filled the room with brightness and light. In it, Audra Denbrough nearly glowed.

That had been the very first day. At the end of it, Beverly went home, and smoked two cigarettes in a row, and them fried herself some eggs and ate a greasy, well-salted meal, trying not to think about calories vs energy expanded. Luckily, it was easy enough to be distracted when you’d just met such an interesting couple. When she sat on her decrepit old coach and tried to read a paperback she was already half-though, her thoughts spun her instead back to the Denbroughs, to their home and the mysteries within.

So by the time Beverly was back on their doorstep, she found herself excited and very curious and barely shy at all. She met a lot of flashy, fun, and interesting people in her line of work, but there was something very striking about Mrs. Denbrough all the same. She had expected some sort of quiet, almost servile interaction to occur between them, and the fact that this was proving to be a completely incorrect assumption was tantalizing.

It was Audra who let her inside, this time. Beverly glanced around the house, thoughtfully – it was large, though not a mansion – large enough that it would surely be useful to have cleaners in. There was no sign of anyone else, however; only herself, and Audra, and their twin footsteps.

Audra glanced at her, knowingly. Audra’s hair was free of its up-do today, and whatever product she’d used to slick it back off her forehead could barely contain it; long strands twisting and falling in front of her eyes.

“Just you and I today, Ms. Marsh,” Audra said. “My husband is otherwise occupied.”

Beverly eyed her, and Audra seemed to pick up on that, too, although Beverly hadn’t meant her to. Audra laughed. “Yes, with his little friend. I hope he’s having fun.”

She raised a conspiratorial eyebrow at Beverly until Beverly laughed too. Audra’s eyes were made-up today, in greyish browns and silvers, but the lines were slightly unsteady, like she’d grown bored of the task as she did it.

This time, Beverly wasn’t even surprised to see a glass of wine on the little table. Today it was something white and sparkling, and Audra took a sip from it, then vanished behind the privacy screen set up in front of her closet.

“I think,” she said, voice slightly muffled, “Today I’ll show you my shoe collection. It’s very important to present a unified visual appearance and by _that_ I mean I’d like my pieces to match my shoes.”

She emerged from behind the screen holding an armful of boxes. Her hair had gotten even more ruffled as she’d dug through her things. The thought came unbidden: _Oh, that’s cute._

Audra plopped down onto the floor and started opening boxes onto the red carpet. Beverly, standing at a distance in her sock feet, hand clasped behind her back, was startled into laughter.

“What?” Audra said, looking at her. At the expression on Beverly’s face, she grinned. “Oh, you’re too good for the floor? I’m ever so sorry –”

Beverly knelt beside her on the carpet, and Audra’s laughing smile turned softer, more genuine.

She held out a neat pair of brown Oxford brogues. “These are nice, aren’t they? I want to wear them to an event later this year, but I think they’d look best with a suit, and I don’t have any that I particularly like. I thought maybe…” there was a sudden lightness in her voice; not shyness but approaching it. “That could be the sort of thing you could help me with.”

Beverly took one of the shoes in her hands. “Of course,” she said. “Whatever you like. I – don’t think I’ve seen you wear anything like that, but I think it’d look very good, with your figure.”

“My figure,” Audra quoted back, an odd expression on her face. “You know, I’m six foot one. 185 centimeters. I have to be cast alongside tall men, and always wear flats.” She sighed a little, and then leaned back on her hands, distancing herself from where she and Beverly had leaned in close to each other.

“You’re right that I’ve not worn something like what I have in mind. I suppose I’m trying to change my image.”

She eyed Beverly in consideration. “D’you know why it doesn’t particularly bother me that my husband is likely a homosexual?”

Beverly blinked at the unexpected change of subject. “No,” she said, tentatively.

“Because I am one, too,” Audra said, and when she said the words, she smiled, and it was a wild sort of smile.

“Oh,” Beverly said.

“Does that make you nervous?”

It did not. She was not exactly the first lesbian woman that Beverly had met. “No,” she said, and smiled at Audra, who was still leaning back and away from her.

“Of course, you don’t have to worry,” Audra said. “I don’t bite.” The banter was Audra-typical, but the hesitation, the slight nervousness, was not.

Beverly raised a brow at her. “Should I have been worried about _that?_ ”

A smile finally cracked across the steady mask of Audra’s face. “Yes,” she said, voice dropping low in theatrical dramatics, “It’s like vampirism. If I bit you, you would turn.”

Beverly laughed, and Audra smiled her predator’s smile, and then they both leaned back in over Audra’s carefully stored shoe collection, and returned to business. If there was a new easiness between them, Beverly could not have said what it meant, because she did not know, herself. She liked it, though; she was finding overall that she liked Audra very much.

And for some time, that was the pattern. Beverly would arrive at the Denbroughs’ home, and the man of the house would either be there or he wouldn’t, and Audra would drink wine and smoke cigarettes and tell jokes, jokes that sometimes made her arch a curious brow towards Beverly, to gauge her reaction. She learned that Audra’s favorite color was red, although she did not wear it often; that she had experienced some mysterious hardships in the past that she referred to only as her _problems;_ that she had a large family that she was fond of but saw rarely; that Bill’s friend was a man named Michael who had read all of Bill’s books and was, according to Audra, _a strange little man, very American I think, and rather intense, but sort of quietly handsome, you know?_

Beverly was trying to be open in response, but was finding it difficult. Audra knew that she liked dark beers, because she’d gotten tired of being offered wine all the time; that she was no longer in contact with any of her family; that she enjoyed her job but felt trapped by her role in it – it was a start, at least. A start at a friendship that Beverly had been surprised to realize she very much wanted to build. 

In between Audra's sly jokes and the sketched concepts of handsome dresses and beautiful suits – Beverly Marsh went home. She smoked her own cigarettes and drank her own beers – presumably a rather cheaper brand than whatever Audra drank, although in the end she couldn't truly be sure – and she went to work and smiled at Ms. Bridges when they passed each other in the hallway. It was odd; it was starting to feel as if she was two different people – a Beverly that belonged to work, and a Beverly that belonged to Audra, and the bright openness of Audra’s room.

If she had to pick a moment where something in the routine changed, it would be the first time she and Audra had shared a cigarette.

“Mind if I step out for a smoke?” Audra asked. Beverly turned to look at her, and one edge of her pretty mouth was curved up in a knowing smile. “I’m terribly addicted to nicotine, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” Beverly said. “Uh – no, I don’t mind. I – smoke too.” It was oddly difficult to get that sentence out.

“Dreadful habit,” Audra said, still watching her. “It’ll give that pretty face of yours lines too early. How old are you, twenty-seven? Twenty-eight?”

 _Flattering._ “Thirty-two. Turning thirty-three in a few months.”

“Ah,” Audra said. “Would never have guessed. I’m nearly forty, you know?”

Beverly knew how old she was. “I wouldn’t call thirty-eight ‘nearly forty.’”

Audra tilted her head back in easy laughter. “Oh, you wouldn’t? Well. All of Hollywood would, I think.” She stood up, though, as she said it, as if shaking off the conversation. Beverly followed her silently down the hallway.

“I like to smoke outside. Bill doesn’t like the smell particularly, and frankly neither do I. Mostly I don’t want it on my clothing.” She smirked at Beverly. “Especially not my nice, unique pieces fitted to my lithe little Hollywood body. It wouldn’t do, would it?”

Beverly’s apartment reeked of cheap-cigarette smoke, so she stayed silent. Audra looked at her as if she knew it.

When they stepped outside, Beverly felt almost taken-aback by the vibrant sunlight. The Denbroughs’ home was bright, at least during daylight hours, because of the large windows, but it was also cool, serene. Outside, there was nothing to protect her from the glare of the sun, from the radiating heat. She glanced surreptitiously at Audra, wondering if it was even possible for such a woman to sweat.

Audra was still smiling. She produced a silver cigarette case from a hidden pocket in her high-waisted trousers and flicked it open with one easy, practiced movement of her thumb. Two slender fingers caught a plain white cig between them, and Beverly watched her bring it to her mouth. From the same pocket came a lighter; silver but inlaid with gold.

Audra set the cigarette in her mouth. “The lighter is not as expensive as it looks,” she said around it. “I’ve had it for a long time.”

She flicked it open and cupped the flame in her hands. Beverly watched them for signs of sweat; there were none. When Audra offered her a cigarette, she took it. Instead of handing her the lighter, though, Audra said simply, “Come here.”

Beverly’s lips parted slightly. She pursed them instead, and then set her own cigarette between them. Audra leaned forward. Her long eyelashes fluttered. She pressed the tip of her cigarette to Beverly’s, and for a split-second Beverly was so overcome she nearly forgot to inhale. She did, after what seemed like ages but was probably a mere matter of milliseconds, and the tip caught light.

Beverly barely tasted the nicotine. She stared at Audra, at her mouth, her lip, her fingers. Her heartbeat was picking up, and she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Expensive cigarettes,” Audra said, after a moment. “They all rather taste the same, though, don’t they?”

“I,” Beverly said. “I wouldn’t know, I guess.” She was still staring.

“Mm,” Audra said. “You’ll learn.”

 _I guess I will,_ Beverly thought. She was still staring at Audra’s lips. She was unsure whether she had even experienced attraction to a woman before – because that was what was going on here, wasn’t it? She wanted Audra to – to what? To touch her? To kiss her? _To fuck her?_ A shiver ran down her spine at the mere thought.

Audra’s smile quirked up, and Beverly briefly had the absurd thought that she could read her mind. If that was the case, though, she likely would’ve been damned from the moment she walked through the door.

She could not take it for much longer.

“Do you have an ashtray?” She said, holding the expensive half-smoked cigarette between her pointer finger and her thumb.

“No,” Audra said, calmly, and plucked it from Beverly’s fingers. She lifted her own from her mouth and sucked heavily at Beverly’s leftovers. Another shiver went down Beverly’s spine, and she thought, quite stupidly: _indirect kiss._

She didn’t say anything; she simply watched as Audra smoked down the two cigarettes and then blunted them both out on the brick-laid porch step that they were perched on. Beverly admired her tenacity, if not her bad habits.

She wanted to say something, anything, to Audra, in fact she ached with it…with the desire to impress her or make her laugh or _something_ , just to engage with her on some personal and genuine level. But the words simply wouldn’t come. She swallowed; she had that cigarette-burn feeling in the back of her throat.

She glanced across, but Audra was seemingly paying her no attention; her line of sight pointed away. Maybe to the little pool; perhaps to the dying rosebushes at the front of the home. Beverly had still never once seen a housekeeper or groundskeeper.

Audra sighed a little, and then as Beverly watched she shook her head, lightly, and seemed to come back down to herself. When she stood to return inside, Beverly followed her like a silent shadow.

After that, Audra was very nearly all that Beverly could think about. It was strange and confusing and she made no effort to stop it. One evening she came home from the Denbroughs’ large empty house and her apartment was still small and dark and smelled like cigarettes and she fixed herself a sandwich for dinner because she didn’t have the attention span for cooking just then. She drank a few beers as she sketched ballgowns and tuxedos, bent over to work on her living room floor. She didn’t drink often, and it was enough to make her head a little fuzzy. Enough to make any inhibitions she may have had vanish…and she already hadn’t had many.

She took a shower. She took it slow and luxurious; she washed her hair. With the water still streaming over her, she touched herself between her legs. Gently, tentatively, at first, then rougher as her mind filled with images. She was thinking of Audra and of Audra’s husband. _Bill_ she heard, in Audra’s voice, and Bill said _Auds_ as he leaned his head over her shoulder, pressing kisses to her collarbone. What were they like, when they were in bed together? Audra thought he was gay, but she had definitely also implied that they slept together…did Audra enjoy it? Beverly banished Bill from the image she was conjuring and replaced him with a faceless, nameless woman, who put her hand in-between Audra’s legs and made her back arch, made her eyelids flutter.

 _Oh, God,_ Beverly thought, with her fingers knuckle-deep into her own wet cunt, and she tossed her own head back, the water soaking through her hair and dripping rivulets down her back and thighs. She couldn’t have stopped her imagination even if she wanted; the images technicolor in the landscape of her mind. She pressed into herself exactly how she knew she liked – _Oh, but how would Audra have liked it, if she – Oh if only she could know –_

She brought herself to orgasm quietly, her sounds swallowed up by the pound of the water. _Shit, is that what I want to do to –_

And it was. Of _course_ it was, she wanted to do all that and more to Audra. As she toweled herself off and dressed in her threadbare pajamas, she thought to herself, _So? What are you going to do about it, Beverly?_

It happened very quickly, after that. The rest of Beverly’s life seemed to sink out of view, and there was only her time with Audra that really mattered; particularly any time where Beverly’s hands were on or near Audra’s body, or the times like had happened where Audra would put her hand on Beverly’s elbow or her lower back, to guide her, point her in the right direction.

It was as if Audra sensed something, a change in the air – _Like a vampire catching scent of blood,_ Beverly thought, somewhat hysterically, remembering Audra’s metaphor from one of their earliest conversations. She stood on Audra’s vibrant red throw rug and watched Audra twirl in a dress Beverly had hemmed for her with her own two hands and the overpowering feeling of her desire threatened to knock her to the floor. She shifted in her stance; pressing her thighs close together. At the end of her spin, Audra looked at her and smiled a knowing smile.

“Do you like what you see, Beverly?” Audra said, her voice slower, quieter than Beverly had ever heard.

“Yes,” Beverly said. It was either that or lie, and she was too flustered to lie.

“Oh, I was hoping you’d say that,” Audra said, and then she was stepping across the room, the green dress billowing prettily around her legs. _It’s too loose,_ Beverly thought numbly, _I should make the split shorter, less room for movement but Audra will prefer the silhouette –_

“Darling,” Audra said, sternly, and took Beverly’s chin in her hand. “Pay attention to me when I’m speaking.” And then she leaned down and kissed Beverly on the mouth.

Beverly gasped into it. She couldn’t help it; her reaction was physical and automatic. Audra’s lips were on hers and her body reacted with animal instincts; her lips parted and her hips jutted forward. For a very long moment, that was all there was; heat; pressure; and Audra. Then Beverly opened her lips ever-so-slightly, and there was a pressure-tilt, a temperature-lift; she was both still with Audra and also feeling very far away.

For a moment Audra did not move, and they stood pressed up against each other, breathing shared air. Then, Audra took a step back, quick and unexpected enough that it looked almost like a stumble.

"Fuck," she said, and it sounded dirtier in her accent than it ever had in Beverly's mouth. "Ah. _Fuck._ I did not actually mean to pressure you into anything."

Beverly's mind was spinning. _I think, maybe, that was the best kiss I've ever had._ Certainly it was one of the most arousing.

"You didn't," she managed, through the fog. "You didn't – pressure me."

“My little hints,” Audra said. They were still so close. “I was flirting, of course, but I hadn’t thought that –”

“Audra,” Beverly said, desperation creeping into her tone, because if Audra kept backing away over a misunderstanding, Beverly wouldn’t know how to reach her. “Please, I –”

She lifted her fingers and touched Audra’s chin.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted. “I have – fuck! I have no idea. But I can’t stop thinking about you…”

“Did you dream of me?” Audra said. She was unmoving except for the small nervous shape of her mouth.

“I don’t remember my dreams,” Beverly said. “But I – oh. I…” She did not know how to say whatever it was that she wanted to say.

“Well, I dreamt about you,” Audra said. “Haven’t…dreamt about anyone like that since I got married.”

“You’re married,” Beverly found herself repeating with a dawning fear. “Ah. _Fuck._ ”

The quiet, still fear seemed to slip off of Audra’s body then, and she laughed, shaking with it. Suddenly she threw her arms around Beverly’s neck, pulling her tight.

“We’ve finally found the level of stress that gets you foul-mouthed, huh?” She said, her mouth inches from Beverly’s ear. “That’s fun.” She kissed Beverly’s neck, one, twice, three times – then let go of her again.

“I’m married to Bill, not tied to him,” She said, reaching out and gripping Beverly’s hands in her own, gently. “If he can have Michael, don’t I deserve a special friend, too?”

“A special friend?” Beverly felt herself shake with a nervous giggle.

“Well,” Audra said, the smug lopsided smile reappearing on her face, “I could tell you the details of what I want to do to you right now, but I think it’d make you blush.”

“Tell me anyway,” Beverly said, uncharacteristically and delightfully bold.

“Hm,” Audra said, and her hands went to Beverly’s hips, holding her gently but tightly. “Well, if you insist.” And then she leaned in, lips ghosting along Beverly’s collarbones and making her shiver, and she told her every gorgeous lustful thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The three chapters is an estimate, but that's because while the bulk of this story is already written, it's still in edits and I'm just not sure how it'll split. The final wordcount will probably end up something like 15k! Thanks for reading so far y'all! 


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